So Much Like Blood
by Punkindoodle
Summary: DRACO/HERMIONE ONE-SHOT ADULT CONTENT I close my eyes and I can see her pluck one from the vase and hold it under her nose. The color was so deep, so thick, so much like blood. I wonder how something so innocent could have turned out to be so wicked.


A/N: Thank you to my wonderful beta, Lady Lynn!

Disclaimer: My story contains characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Aol/Time Warner as well as Scholastic Inc and Bloomsbury Publishing. No profit is being made from the story and no copyright infringement is intended.

All things truly wicked start from an innocence.

Ernest Hemingway

...

_A single red rose, glistening with dew, lay on the garden wall, its petals wilting in the stifling heat of the early summer morning. I stare at it, sorrow overcoming me. I remember how there had been a freshly-cut bouquet of those same roses next to the bed that night. I close my eyes and I can see her pluck one from the vase and hold it under her nose. The color was so deep, so thick, so much like blood. I wonder how something so innocent could have turned out to be so wicked..._

...

I remember the way she glanced at me with those soft, liquid brown eyes. How the white satin scarf she was using as a headband accentuated the highlights in her honey-colored hair. That long, pale-pink dress that clung to her every curve so alluringly, and the way she swayed her hips seductively as she seemed to glide across the room towards me.

I can still see her mysterious smile that conveyed thoughts of hidden lusts and desires that would shock even her closest friends. I watched her long, slender fingers wrap around the champagne glass as she lifted it gently from the passing tray, and I recall the way the diamond on her finger caught the light, almost blinding me.

How I loved the way her luscious, glistening lips pressed against the frosty glass as she sipped, looking up through her thick, black lashes at me mischievously. I can still hear that small tinkling laugh of hers that made it obvious to me that she wished to flirt with danger.

Yes, I can see it as clear as day... the way she arched her brow curiously when I suggested we go some place more private, and the way she clutched the long strand of expensive pearls that lay around her neck as she pretended to be shocked by my forwardness. That playful way she placed her hand on my arm, telling me no with her mouth, but screaming yes with those eyes.

I'll never forget that puff of tiny hot air that pushed against my ear as she stood on tip-toe and whispered things that made even me blush. Or the way I took her hand and rushed for the nearest exit, Apparating to my manor where I planned on ravishing her until the dawn broke...

If I close my eyes, I can remember every detail as if I was living it this very moment:

My fingers brush over the creamy, soft skin of her shoulder; it feels like heaven. The thin strap of her gown slides down her arm, exposing the top of one luscious breast. I lean in and softly kiss it, and a tiny moan escapes from my lips as I feel my cock grow with enthusiastic desire.

Licking my way slowly up her neck, I suck on the tender flesh there, nipping at it with my teeth. She throws her head back, making her hair spill in long cascades down her back. Tangling my fingers in it, I pull hard and my mouth descends upon hers, crushing her lips like delicate rose petals.

She pushes me gently from her and smiles, amused. She thinks it's funny that I'm flushed and annoyed. I reach for her but she holds out her finger, waving it back and forth like she's chastising a toddler for coloring on the walls. Looking at me with that wicked twinkle in her eye, she slips her dress from her body.

Arching her back, she takes her breasts in her hands and kneads them, pulling roughly at her own nipples. I can tell by the way she closes her eyes and bites her lip that she loves both pain and pleasure. I watch with lustful eyes as she turns, sticks that glorious, hot ass out at me and slips her knickers off slowly, teasingly.

Looking at me over her shoulder, her tongues caresses her upper lip and she moans as if she is already in the throws of an orgasm. I just about rip the clothes from my shaking body as she stands up and comes to me, dressed only in those pearls.

We stand, pressed together, devouring each other's mouths like sex-starved lunatics. Her hand wraps around my cock and she strokes it in a frantic rhythm, driving me absolutely wild. My fingers pump in and out of her swollen, wet pussy, the friction making it burn like a furnace.

As we tumble to the bed, her foot knocks over the vase of roses on the night stand and it falls over, spilling water onto the hardwood floor. Neither one of us cares; we're too far gone in our own ecstasy to worry about such trivial things.

She straddles me and I take one of her nipples in my mouth. I know she likes it to hurt and so I suck it hard and I can't help but grin when I hear her sharp intake of breath as I reach around, spread her ass and slid a finger in.

The sound of the water from the vase dripping onto the floor gives me my rhythm as I finger her tight hole and she grinds herself on my throbbing cock. I release her nipple and grab a hold of her hips when she sits up. She looks beautiful as she reaches up and removes the white satin scarf from her hair, her breasts jiggling, making me hunger for another taste.

The silk feels like soft butter as she slips it around my wrists and ties it to the headboard. It's a bit tight, but what the hell, I'm not planning on trying to escape. She leans in and looks into my eyes and what I see there both excites me and scares me. I had never seen this side of her, and I know I have clearly underestimated her. I had always thought her quite the innocent when it came to the art of sexual gratification. Never before had I been so wrong.

Her mouth is fiercely hot, and she leaves a trail of moist kisses down my taught, muscular body like clues to a hidden treasure. I almost scream when she takes my hard cock into her mouth, the pleasure is so strong; the way she takes it all in so fucking slowly, sucks until it's glued to the roof of her mouth and then lets it slide back out until only the head is pressed against her lips. In the back of my mind, I wonder where she learned this and who she has been practicing it on, but I quickly shove that thought away and concentrate on the explosion that is building up inside my balls.

I feel a moment of anger and disappointment when she abandons my needy member, but it vanishes like smoke as she positions her sopping pussy over my stiff cock and it slides smoothly in. Almost immediately she shudders as an orgasm courses through her body.

The sound of her moaning my name and the smell of her sweet juices almost drive me over the edge, but I manage to hold it back- just barely. Her face is terrifyingly beautiful- in an animalistic sort of way- as she rides out the orgasmic wave. If only I wasn't tied up, what wonderful, erotic things I could do to her...

She seems to read my mind and leans into me to untie the scarf. Her face is flushed; her eyes are blazing with fiery lust, and her breath on my face as she whispers for me to fuck her is hot and still tinted with the scent of champagne.

Flipping her over on her back roughly, I grab her legs and throw them over my shoulders, her heels digging into my back as I lift her ass off the mattress. I can't wait to eat her succulent little pussy and my mouth is salivating before I even take the first lick. She tastes even better than I imagined, like Ambrosia of the Gods.

I can hear the soft mewing sounds she's making turn into whimpers and moans as I flick my tongue on her clit and then suck it as hard as I can. She grabs my head and pulls me by the hair, grinding her pussy into my face, her head thrashing back and forth as another jolting orgasm rips through her body. She's screaming my name and calling to God, and telling me she loves me, which pleases me and makes me want her even more- if that's possible.

Her breathing is erratic and she's unable to move her limbs as I kiss her, caressing her taste buds with her own come as I ram my cock into her. We cling to each other, panting, our sweaty bodies slapping together in perfect synchronization. It only takes a few second and I just can't hold it in any longer. The explosion is so intense that I fear I'm going to black out. She digs her nails into my ass cheeks, pushing my cock into her as far as it will go as I release inside her.

I whisper that I love her and I kiss her. She wraps her arms around me and holds me, my cock still buried inside her. Looking into my eyes, she tells me that she loves me too.

...

I awaken a long time later and see her standing next to the window, the moonlight streaming in, making her look like a heavenly apparition. She's getting back into her dress, and I ask her where she's going.

She laughs at the absurdity of my question, wondering why I always ask that same question when I already know what the answer is going to be. She's right, the answer never changes, but I can't help but hope that one of these times she will surprise me and say that she's only going to the kitchen to get a snack and she'll be right back.

When she tells me once again that she has to leave- that he's probably waiting for her, something snaps in me. I'm sick and tired of being used by her, of lying here in the darkness with the sent of our sex still hanging in the air while she always leaves to go back to him.

I get out of the bed angrily, determined to make her stay this time. I ask her why she can't see how much I love her, how perfect we are together. Can't she understand how much I hate sharing her with that bastard? How I would give anything to have her spend the rest of her life with me?

She looks at me like I'm crazy as I stalk over to her, talking in that angry tone of voice. Slipping on her shoes, she waves her hand in dismissal as she brushes past me and leans over the bed.

I turn, seeing that it's the scarf she's after. It was a birthday present from her husband and there was no way she was going to go back home without it. It might make him suspicious and then she would have to give up her secret life.

Tying it back into her hair, she glances over at me; the sadness clear on her face. She tells me that this is just as hard for her as it is for me, but somehow I seriously doubt that it is. I ask her how she can stand to live a lie day after day. She says that I'll never be able to understand what she goes through and that for once I should think of someone besides myself. What about him? She actually has the nerve to ask me to put myself in his place! How would I feel if I found out that the woman I was married to had been having an affair for years and was in love with another man?

I tell her I don't give a fucking damn how he would feel. I tell her she belongs here with me and that if she truly loves me as much as she says, she'll leave him.

Looking down, she sees the vase lying on its side and she picks it up, placing it upright on the table. I can see the tears welling in her eyes as she plucks a rose from the vase and holds it under her nose. Without even looking at me, she tells me that she can no longer see me, that things have gotten out of hand and that she never meant to fall in love with me. She tells me that she will always have feelings for me, but that she belongs with him. Life with him is... safe... and life with me would only be a disaster and I knew it.

I can feel all the spit in my mouth dry up instantly as she heads for the bedroom door. How can she think this way? How can she give up what we have so easily and just walk away like it never happened? As she reaches for the handle, something inside of me, something that I've managed to keep under control for years, suddenly breaks loose and I'm gone...

It's like I'm watching from outside my body as I grab her roughly by the upper arm, my fingers digging into the tender flesh, bruising it. All I see is the fear in her eyes as I shake her and scream in her face that she's not going this time. That she belongs to me and if I can't have her, then he can't either.

She's crying in fear, begging me to let her go, but I don't care. All I can think about is to make her feel my pain. Make her see how badly it hurt when she ripped out my heart and stomped on it like it was a scurrying cockroach. Suddenly, I scream in agony as her teeth sink into my hand and she manages to twist from my grip.

Now I'm beyond angry. I'm furious. My fingers hook around that long, pearl necklace as she turns to run for the window next to the bed. I yank it, choking her, and it breaks, scattering the precious gems across the floor. She stops and turns, her eyes wide, the mascara running in inky rivers down her red cheeks. I can feel myself walking towards her, my fists clenching and unclenching. I can hear her begging me to stop and to leave her alone, but I'm totally helpless to stop now. It's too late.

She backs up, the heels of her shoes slipping in the puddle of water on the floor. When she feels her ass hit the nightstand, and sees that I'm still coming, the look of panic on her face is almost comical. She's trapped and she knows it. I smile, telling her that I'm not going to hurt her. I just want to make her understand how much I love her, how much she needs to be with me and only me, and if she can't see that, then I'll have to make her see it.

I can tell she wants to call for her wand, but it's downstairs where she left it and she knows there is no time; danger is imminent. She tells me not to come any closer, but of course I do, I'm crazy with jealousy and not thinking rationally anymore. She spins around, her hair flying out like a fan and steps onto the nightstand facing the window. I stop, suddenly seeing for the first time how desperate she is to get away from me, so desperate that she was about to do the unthinkable.

I can see now how scared she is and it disgusts me to realize I'm the one who has made her so frightened. How could I do this to her? How could I hurt the woman I love? I beg her to stop, to get away from the window and come down, but she is clearly not thinking straight. She believes me to be a violent lunatic who wants to kill her, and I can't say I don't blame her for thinking that way. I tell her again that I'm not going to hurt her, but she just doesn't believe me and she gets more desperate by the second.

She turns slightly, holding onto the drapes for balance. She tells me that she loves me and that she's always loved me, and then with one swift move, she throws herself through the glass.

As if in slow motion, I run towards the window screaming her name, but she's already gone. All I manage to do is knock the vase of roses over, sending it hurling to the ground far below where it shatters on the pavement, sending the sweet smelling flowers raining down on her crumpled body.

For a brief second, I think of throwing myself out as well. I deserve to die for what I've done, but standing there on the edge with the full moon hovering above me, I couldn't do it. I'm a coward, plain and simple. Always have been and always will be.

I step down from the nightstand, the word 'coward' reverberating in my head. Blinded by my tears, I somehow find the door and stumble down the stairs. I throw open the door and run out into the still, summer night. She's there, lying in a gathering pool of blood, her blank eyes staring up at the sky.

Falling to the ground next to her, I throw my head back and scream in frustration. I grab at my hair and wail in grief. She's gone, and I'll never see her smile, feel her kisses or hear her laughter ever again. The cloying smell of the sweet roses mixed with the coppery scent of her blood was nauseating and I turned my head and vomited up sorrow, disbelief and guilt. What had I done? I had killed the only woman that I've ever loved and now she was gone forever, soon to be only a memory in the mind of a madman.

...

_I snatch up the dying rose and toss it to the recently disturbed earth below my feet. Trying to pick a new, fragrant rose from the bush, I suck in a breath as I'm pricked by a thorn. There on the end of my finger, blood is welling up. I stare at it, thinking how thick it is, how much the deep-red color reminds me of roses. I stick the finger in my mouth and suck, finding little comfort in the way it stings. The pain pales in comparison to what she must have felt when her fragile body hit the hard ground._

_Placing the fresh rose on the garden wall, I sigh, knowing that they will be coming to arrest me soon. I don't care; I deserve to be punished for spilling innocent blood. I, Draco Malfoy, am guilty of murder, and I hope they kill me because I can't go on without her any longer. She was my life, my love, my reason for breathing._

_"I love you, Hermione," I say to the woman whose lifeless body lies buried beneath my feet, right next to the roses she loved so much in life._


End file.
